Текст песни
You never looked, to ever find her, and the usual cost of labor
You did not have to go, if the mother goes to bed with you
or will you call the gods
Will you call her a freak, will you hide behind that get up that you wear
With a cigarette hangin out of your mouth and henry miller in your, or will you call the gods, will you run and tell the neighbors
Finding yourself in your mother s arms, if the mother goes to bed with you, without the usual costs of labor
you did not have to go
will you hide behind that get up that you wear
With a cigarette hangin out of your mouth and henry miller in your, to ever find her
You little fucker, will you call them freaks
if the mother goes to bed with you
if the mother bears your children without tears
With a cigarette hangin out of your mouth and henry miller in your, you know your sperm is weak, you did not have to go
finding yourself in your mother s arms
Without the usual costs of labor, if the mother bears your children without tears
To show her that you were holy, you little fucker Live, now you know they re gonna come for you
will you call them freaks
will you call her a freak
Will you render her asunder with what she really needs, will you run and tell geraldo
You never looked, if the mother goes to bed with you Live, in the bowels of the cathedral
And drag your silly name into the mud, will you render her asunder with what she really needs
With a cigarette hangin out of your mouth and henry miller in your, you know your sperm is weak Live, if the mother goes to sleep with you
Will you call them freaks, like peter did on the hill Freaks, and the usual cost of labor
Now you know they re gonna come for you, you never looked
if the mother bears your children without tears
Will you run and tell the papers, if the mother goes to bed with you
In the bowels of the cathedral, will you run and tell geraldo
To ever find her, finding yourself in your mother s arms
If the mother bears your children without tears, if the mother goes to sleep with you, will you run and tell the papers
If the mother bears your children without tears, like peter did on the hill
Or will you call the gods, how she picked you from a line up in downtown philadelphia
if the mother goes to bed with you
With a cigarette hangin out of your mouth and henry miller in your, will you render her asunder with what she really needs